Going askew, going astray, sipped butts in the ash-tray of all day, neverlong, smoking and “Tokens” at a Cish-Cash “Casino” goes the wine-o guzzling the firm grape-juice, righty tighty, skin tight jeans of giving on-lookers a stride of breaded pride, dancing for Mardi-gras beads but then sitting sorta stoned, King on the Throne—crown of thorns—but back to the jeans, by all means, ripped and tattered but then SORTED coming out if the drained air has come up—Facebook “Care”—lol when I meant to call the office but I got sick today and I SORTA passed-out, me afloat with Robotussin flaking fakery and not sure what bakery has your honey-buns, they’re a lot of fun to ogle, I call them up on Google, digging the cusp of a fuzzy Playboy Bunny at yesterday’s upcoming Easter-time—when candy Easter Basket, filled with treats, the bunnies, they eats, and Greets from the imaginary white haired critter, HIDING the chocolate creamery Cadbury the spreadsheet so neat of Glitz ’n’ Glam—happy as a Clam with a C-note to blow on whiskey and wine for the “Oh, honey, pick up that wine I like a lot!”
THEN BOOM!
Why?
BECAUSE ONE OF MY ENEMIES DISABLED MY ZOOM SOFTWARE, that, where, I, with wishes, and prayers to be able to attend Jehovah’s Witness ordination, all but ordinary for you, unlike Peter and Colonel and I like ME, being “Jeffrey Marquis” who we stay true to our belief in God!
What’s more, to run more of a “system” being a common store, or what’s more suffice as a NYC boulevard whore? Really I mean come on, my girl who she is poor and shaking the earthquakes equal-opportunity hard-core, like a damsel kind of drug, when she gives me hugs ’n’ kisses, that, I wonder, will she be the Misses? who I soared and “scored” now hand me a big wad of tissues, having explored the inner-horizons of Play-Boy issues, swearing I mostly read the Articles—of their lingerie, of clothing, me making the most-in this moist state of sweatshirts when they shrunk my trunks! I’m sleeping upper top-side in a bulletin bunk kinda bed when I don’t eat bread or pasta or most-any carbohydrate—LOW-CARB to lose weight, shedding off the pounds of only a few “L-B’s” to FEED THE NEED and to feed the needy—
Madame made them, last name “Rite-ella” in my flip-flops, and the lips with Beyonce’s hips—good Lordy the absurdity of pointing “nips” to go along with tits, that ribbit-ribbit ramble, the whole ensemble taking a Tardy with a “special person” eating lego’s they won’t let go, I know and this, retards kiss and my ass, while not partaking in $CAKE or bratty sass—more like “Step-Sister” or “Step-Mother” no offense but I have to say, “My readers are NUTS!”
And some say “niggers” are quicker in the foot—RACE—that swallow my words at your own “Pace Picante” some dip, and I say hi to Rip and Grammy, in Heaven, that the heathens of quilled pens accelerate through The Bends https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=7qFfFVSerQo that the peaceful hens chirp and chirk and EARTH TO CHUCK! love me right you so, to shower me with gifts, every 2 or 3 days—showering skin and smelling the sugary salts so sweet, probably 3 showers a week—being left dry as a Baker {pond} when the fishing for bass something something ASS ohhhhh hahaha now I’m thirsting for Africa’s albatross in the Haitian nation of scum and piss and trash, emptying your Desktop Bin the space freed externally, exacerbating the alleviation of within the MOTHER BOARD (mommyblowsbest “step-mom”) accreditation of fantasies forlorn—I’m doing mighty, mighty fine with no broads—but merely the pic’s of stillshot HUSTLER’s memories at “Dave and Buster’s” a saloon or salon, as the writing goes on… GOOD GOD, DEAR GOD, what’s with the defamation of these Teens (I don’t watch “Teens” online at night because I couldn’t care to bear the sight of a small girl so T-I-T-E) but me hoping for a real gig- with this girl, Mannie? Take my jib! Take my job! Hob my knob, known to be discrete, having talked to your whole family, like your Dad the nice guy on the phone!
The dark nicey-night’s coming at right of the slight—1 hour different Daylight with a Glo-Worm for Ember, I meant to make her day!—and I delivered her a shiver of the package—but I’ve been so shitty to Ally—not mentioning her name often as our 1 year relationSHIP—it sunk, she was bunk, and I only got BJ’s from her 2 times only, that frigid B didn’t deliver and I seeked new partnership with younger girls only, or maybe older—unavailable Ari—so sorry I went clubbing undevoted to her, nope- because I knew her mother so well—The Boss, my Boss at GNC ***I WAS THE ASSISTANT MANAGER*** happy and knowledgeable but then taken away from the daily life of me living at home, a very far distance from me having a wife—that would have been the life to live, my itty-bitty bits of love to give and grope—nigga swinging ON A BENCH!
Nick! I feel great about where Mannie will bring you… or did you get a divorce?
Needle goes where the eager Eagle is sealed for improvement… and approval to think of the Valley Girls wishing for swirls and bubbles, the hot tub outside the house backside, it causes warmth and coming forth with a fragment of a Benjamin’s stack-of-cash underwater when itching a scratch on one’s legs—to a pin-prickly kinda sort of disfigurement in the aspect of an Abrasion or Bored Explicit Avenue who bought me a gift, catching the Rhythm Divine but divided—complexity of the Circuit City—whenever you read me, I’m treating you to a Fancy (Krystal) misnumbered in slumber slobbering and WRX I dig in the clutch, a lot or little—either way, the braking was fine—but the lead-foot was too much on mine, and/or of my own to pay a paper ticket—only one time with my WRX, I got the ticket reduced, to spruce up my documents, that I have a clean “record” as approved by a Judge, signing doc’s, signed-off doctors, signature SMUDGE — so smile and shine your future should be loving like mine to the L – oh – L I dink the pink pen in black ink when I think, “I need a sweetie with hips, lips, and jeans without rips in the knees—oh geez—please me and BELIEVE ME, I’ll bet you’re in-debt like an in-debtter without mentioning, you know, him, and Dan, YOUR BEARD LOOKS REALLY GREAT! excuse me peruse me and my writing sending unique testaments to my parents and my 1 year older cousin Dan, the man with a beard now- albeit sipping a bestowed Brew every now that and then—when—we would drink a couple beers that night—that I kept my promise, “I WILL ATTEND ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS!” I did it for me, fancifully and Tactile tick-tok the Chinese software I don’t use that shit!
I don’t fuck with no old hose, and I want to buy a house near my Mom and Dad (!!!!!) because, really- and here I’m not near a mall or hot-spot, that, also, I’m not driving a Tesla right now and I’m a little irked—there was a Quirk car salesman organization for the purpose of selling Nissan’s—Clayton Tyler—your yellow X-Terra was cool (but that’s the second “Terra” today) ::: http://www.coindesk.com ::: I was on their IT Department on the phone for an hour or so, all-through-out that night in 2013 or 2014—Danita was the Queen, and Mannie was my DREAM COME TRUE!
Praying to the Kindle to read not the Bible, but The Qur’an, that and…
Hinge of a UHAUL while hailing the Chief (and Irene the chef)
My name is Jeff with 2 “Aliases” as per my business (Google: “JMRQ Heavy Industries”) where I write all day and night, writing, right? and that I offer no promises within my time of Private late at night, my WebCam’s Sight, Signed Off, as per the Zoom, disabled for me, because I think people don’t want me to be friends with Jehovah’s Witnesses, oh well, as you can tell or discern or discover, I gently and generously, flirt who were the waitresses I once did see, eating at restaurants once or twice a day, I had all the time in the world, as it may, and be, barking up a tree, and me, hoping to see Laurie
At that restaurant the hot spot of www.thesole.com the S&P rising and risen since the start—you can own a piece of art- like shares in a famous painting:
I had the poster of this on my wall, because it minded me of having “Pulled an Ace” in the Space Race!
A blue thumb-tack pin type of a which needle goes where the eager Eagle is sealed for improvement… and approval to think of the Valley Girls wishing for swirls and bubbles, the hot tub outside the house backside, it causes warmth and coming forth with a fragment of a Benjamin’s stack-of-cash underwater when itching a scratch on one’s legs—to a pin-prickly kinda sort of disfigurement in the aspect of an Abrasion or Bored Explicit Avenue who bought me a gift, catching the Rhythm Divine but divided—complexity of the Circuit City—whenever you read me, I’m treating you to a Fancy (Krystal) misnumbered in slumber slobbering and WRX I dig in the clutch, a lot or little—either way, the braking was fine—but the lead-foot was too much on mine, and/or of my own to pay a paper ticket—only one time with my WRX, I got the ticket reduced, to spruce up my documents, that I have a clean “record” as approved by a Judge, signing doc’s, signed-off doctors, signature SMUDGE — so smile and shine your future should be loving like mine to the L – oh – L I dink the pink pen in black ink when I think, “I need a sweetie with hips, lips, and jeans without rips in the knees—oh geez—please me and BELIEVE ME, I’ll bet you’re in-debt like an in-debtter without mentioning, you know, him, and Dan, YOURE BEARD LOOKS REALLY GREAT! excuse me peruse me and my writing sending unique testaments to my parents and my 1 year older cousin Dan, the man with a beard now- albeit sipping a bestowed Brew every now that and then—when—we would drink a couple beers that night—that I kept my promise, “I WILL ATTEND ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS!” I did it for me, fancifully and Tactile tick-tok the Chinese software I don’t use that shit!
I don’t fuck with no old hose, and I want to buy a house near my Mom and Dad (!!!!!) because, really- and here I’m not near a mall or hot-spot, that, also, I’m not driving a Tesla right now and I’m a little irked—there was a Quirk car salesman organization for the purpose of selling Nissan’s—Clayton Tyler—your yellow X-Terra was cool (but that’s the second “Terra” today) ::: www.coindesk.com ::: I was on their IT Department on the phone for an hour or so, all-through-out that night in 2013 or 2014—Danita was the Queen, and Mannie was my DREAM COME TRUE!
Me at a Dexter’s of Doc Martens the shoes, both of them so cutie cutesy one-neither, the shoes are loose and I don’t drink juice (too sugary…) or any “Goose” of tyrant imbibation on the Nation of all-natty “drunk pickled peeps” the lazy pupils examined, and the word is out: this man drank draught (pronounced “draft” in old literature) when swoopened up by the men who are pumped—I’m talking about front-line soldiers within ear-shot of not using pans instead of Pot—like my replacement: tiny bits of tobacco—but from so long ago, along the way with what I thought of earlier- say it an Anthem on a Mid-Term having gotten a “0%”—the wise me—although still recovering—I wanted a B or B+ and I got what I came more for in the classroom setting Mrs. Waskevich I’ll never forget her or her sass, a brass bracelet not having, had one, these Rubber Bracelets are always worn… like a Taxi on the Horn, for a mate para-graph it’s Aft… racing aircraft at Aviation Shows—these pilots, they know—as to how to how about Langlois landing a SpaceX shuttle, 4 shure, fo’ sho’ as JW has sucked me in and I want to go to the next “Mass” called “A Meeting” but my Zoom is disabled on this corrupt laptop, my third, that you have my word, the other 2 laptops of mine are with unknown master passwords by me, that this is I see, it’s so currently corrupt *hiccup* to the tippity-top when others intramingle while I’m so pleasantly—just time passing all the way—and each day—sleeping late until usually about 3pm or 4pm as the best Bed, a Queen, remaining dry in dreams, not a naked lady seen in many years—so apparently I’m being honest and direct, out of much respect for the “Team” here at “Averte” I’m stranded and the projectiles will’ve landed, Apple Jack, the teacher’s pet to deal and get to know so much more, I implore, really- it’s a good idea with out going to no man’s land—the Empire of the Romans—to the core, when a home-run of Peterson’s yeah that’s the way it takes to make the people in the Stands, well, umm, to make them “STAND THIS BIT OF TEXT” with style and now I’m paid in pea-chips be the wreathe of an XMAS doorway—yeah, more is on-the way of Transit—skip an exit—driving North or South to either NYC or Florida that would be “I-95”
` ` ` Flo’ Rider air-trans, that I’m not “TRANS” or tyrannical—that would be hilarious—I sit on my Chorus-size love-seat Couch when swiping my Debit Card a-Stray and me hoping for a kitten to name Cookies- that would be the day, when a Stray cat comes around, they will Take the Kitten In !!!!!
Full cadence on the candid veracity of mine on oh mine, now you’ll see, the arched shedding of MATTRESSES (FB: Hannah House) at best for the whim of a sick man stashing pearls (whimsical word is bond) this waiting game, me Go lights green—like Ember’s “Glo-Worm” I gave her and to be a lifesaver on a Baywatch (Movado) Bimbo—her implants like Flotation devices—of course Pam pictured in pictorials the deplorables would get their male-P.O. Box magazines each month, and at gas stations back in the day, I’d say hey I can’t wait until who but Charlie Sheen would umm bang these stitches, something something “Tiger blood”—Tiger Woods—Trying to be, like Brad Pitt, his body morphed unto me, lacking much muscle and stinking straight-down SHRINKING with my old age, again, the Insulin pins of protein-peptides (2005, 2006, 2007) of becoming stronger and TaLLer with injectionable and questionable questioning, “Is growing in size possible with a doctor, not messing with GHRP-6 ($200 product thrown away by my parents), CJC-1295, IGF-1 LR3, Hexarelin, etc. like Melanotan II, when I was “The Man” with big arms compared to my hands, gripping given to the givers at AR-R.COM with Human Chorionic Gonadotropin my name, pinned with pricks, the IGF-1 LR3 flown on over international waters from South Korea—that was a greedy year for me pointing to Purchase on Amazon its dot-com great with free shipping, but speaking of ships, not the State Head Injury Program—I met Peter Sargent there and he’s a great guy like Colonel Booth and James Earl Jones’ing watching “Dream”-sy fields of their Dreams Come True- of my “JMRQ HEAVY INDUSTRIES” people hopefully supporting me while I sift and sway, away, “Dreaming” of course, with her moussed hair and V-spot bare with what wax applied, sugary sweet—me missing Justine MY OWN TREAT, sticking loyal to HER, no “threats” to anyone under the God Given Sun—and I—raising waters, I sigh, when this the “Climate” of nothing changed but my outlook and my #1 goal YES, MY PROMISE… to write a full novel with thee subject, “Traumatic Brain Injury Recovery” #1 bookshelves of these DREAMS coming clean as to the jokes from decades ago, fake events, real people, enticing me when I would write about ME AND PURELY FICTIONAL EVENTS, that was for “Hey Delilah” and hey Debbie, I want to take a teacher, Mr. Deedy through “the ropes” when I SWEAR I won’t associate with him at his new school—Saint Peter-Marian—I have absolutely no interest in befriending that old fag, homosexual, and molester of me, when I chose to see the highs of CHEMS—once after school he scored with me handing him some large amount of dollars—though I didn’t reach “Honors” classes—for drugs he’d do, and me telling him I wouldn’t get at addled—I didn’t get addicted to anything in High School, that not until 2003 I would drink light beer and my parents jeered my bad habit of occasionally inhaling the smoke of a blunted blinger—Selena Gomez and Miley Cyrus—beautiful singers of long songs peppered painted playing notes for my aural cavities to bring their CD’s in a store being purchased—I didn’t download too many songs post-TBI, I’d buy them at FYE! because SiriusXM wouldn’t reach my home with Mom and Dad. lol “Momand” give me your hand I’ll gently place prose of Mohammed in The Qur’an—I find peace in The Qur’an—it says Jesus is a “Prophet” and Allah is Allah, a God to some, but what about “The Father, The Creator of His universe” ?????
Geeked out with the awesome really this awareness of the need for keeping it cool, that, well, I’m cheeky- keeping out at the hour for sour swindles- hey mister, I really like your daughter of her off the top-shelf drinking, calling out off the top “help” is needed for some opiod addicts, attrition, attraction, in the Attic, from where I come unto ye- albeit the timed temperature to stay inside one’s home, the Master Bedroom- my time for independent living in a house, it comes soon, so tight- at night before falling asleep while wifey weeps, for feeling my disdain’t, it can’t it- it ain’t about her umm TAN her skin the color of amber sand in a pento-gram of Petroleum spilled, across the a Cross, the linoleum floor, snoozing the lines of Inositol-SHAMED, and what about a druggie’s parents—are they to exist in hell with the deviant addict derelict drugz-user???
I could have saved a boy, a young man—PITIFUL, PURELY MY PITY—it’s “Davey” who I begged his parents and his shitty family to get him off of heroin and fentanyl…HE NEEDED DETOX! and I called the cops in an effort to have him “saved” and not be a shitty father of 2 kids—him unmarried—that piece-of-shit makes my blood boil! I called the cops when he was high on pills and drank 4 beers at a restaurant, this an hour AFTER HE FELL DOWN at my house and I was forced by my Mom and her shitty family of scum and shit and piss to let him drive me—that I know Dave is suffering so much in Hell—I curse his name, David, he won’t be missed—as I’ve said before, “The worst person I’ve ever known” referring to Dead Dave the Heroin and Liquor Slave!
“It’s nothing anymore to have a beautiful stock body. You see those cars that are completely stock cherry, right out of the dealer’s showroom in 1955, I always think, what a waste.“
Dave comes to mind quite often because THREE TIMES I MADE THE EFFORT TO SAVE HIM!
My Mom said he was off of bad drugs and she said that Dave was “a better man” than me!
I wonder what happened to him, and where he is with God…
Taken under and split asunder, two shoes plumber and found, un-Earthed water in the ground… of what comeuppance sipped sifted chocolate dirt or soil and worms (bow to a high brow)… then turned face and in space—of my ravished (ravishing)—but not a rash ON YOUR CREVIST!
And of what but to be Bearish (Or bullish) ??? with what Jersey J-Wow her on J. Shore, yeah her wowing at the majestic envy of Niagara Falls, me standing somewhat short, with a big right arm—that’s what I return a retort and With—a knife slitted throat of a goat, oh golly, eating at Molly’s in an hour or so, just so you know, and report on a card with an “A” a la my few great grades—throwing Ace of spades, for the enclave and my personal Slave of one another—the mother being BRITNEY SPEARS, so throw away your shovel and with what wondrous wonders of yay it’s Britney (of the USA) listen to her music, dancing in the air, Hovering with a Hoover—the lips on that bitch, like no other! So dip the hips on puffy pillows
Fa La La La this my DNA marching on the 20th 3.20.1982 birthday with the new Mach 20 missile of my country, but sitting still, tap the peg leg and my left arm
Round about gut out with a piercing of wonder, to ponder, swallowed up with that belly fat-so serious, about your health and fitness, Finessed — male-boobs on the chested, MALE-BREASTED!
